ᴋᴀᴇʟ.

@hivemindd 
            Been a while ;;) 

((@hivemindd 
            
            I sent you a disccc linking to ittt

[@-_Hosted_Bunny_-] /    i’m ngl, i don’t remember the idea

(( @hivemindd 
            
            At first, his expression had been full of a fearful type of anger that only came from experience, a violence that only came from self preservation, a desperate attempt for survival, where he saw danger everywhere he looked. It almost seemed as if he were to attack again, the way his panicked grip clenched onto the handle, shaking horridly,  arm lifting the knife a bit closer, but freezing when it was still far away from him.  He shifted on his legs in an unstable manner, disoriented, showing the type of consistent stress he’d been under. If he had known his disappearance hadn’t even bothered him, he’d almost feel hurt about it, almost, he was mostly use to it by now, used to being unwanted, useless… that’s what he was told throughout his life after all, it became almost a dull feeling, empty, blank, nothing, just like his own existence had been considered as, simply a test subject, nothing more… Nothing at all… but all that instinctive violence, the urge to attack anything that came near him that could threaten his freedom, had dissipated, slowly, feeling like it was trickling down as if it were burning sand slipping through the broken bottom of an hourglass, into snow, to chill. His eyes stared closer, hearing his voice make his head tilt, a few familiar clicks with his tongue against the top of his mouth, a silence like before that told him it was taking him time to figure out how to respond, and then, finally, slowly, his voice hoarse from not being used “I think so… I….. ”  glancing down a moment, before slowly, shakily shoving the knife into his pocket, even though his mind swam, told him to attack, he managed to pull himself back, he wasn’t thinking straight, starved, even more skin and bone than before, and deprived of much needed rest. “I…. Couldn’t… find my way…. Back….” Admitted slowly, the clicking stim seeming to continue a bit more rapidly, as if unnerved to say that.

[@-_FaceLess_LabRat_-]
            
                 At first , Kael hadn’t even realized the experiment was gone.  Missing from the abandoned hangar he’d been hiding him in.  It wasn’t until the silence stretched on for days — too quiet , too empty — that he understood he was alone again.  Strangely , it didn’t bother him.  If anything , it brought relief.  Now he no longer had to worry about scientists tracing the experiment back here , and he could return to wondering whether his former colleagues would eventually track him down instead.  In a way , the isolation was almost comforting.  The past few months had been relentless for the pilot , chaotic enough that he’d upgraded nearly every security system in the hangar.  Lately , he couldn’t tell if paranoia was setting in or if his instincts were right, but he swore he’d spotted ESA patrols sweeping nearby sectors.  Alarm bells had immediately started ringing in his head.  They hadn’t discovered the hangar yet — but Kael knew it was only a matter of time before they did , and when that happened , nothing about it would end cleanly.
            
                 That night , he headed into the city for supplies.  Food and water were running low , and he needed basic things — soap , batteries , whatever he could carry unnoticed.  As he moved through the dim streets , something felt wrong.  Familiar.  The air itself carried a presence he recognized deep in his gut , like someone from his past lingering just out of sight.  Instead of stopping , he followed the feeling , letting it guide him toward a narrow alleyway swallowed by shadows.  At first , all he could make out was a silhouette standing deeper within the corridor.  Thin.  Still.  Familiar enough to make his chest tighten.  It looked like the lab rat he once sheltered — but Kael couldn’t be certain.  A low grunt slipped from him before he finally spoke , voice hushed enough that nobody else would overhear.
            
                 “ . . .  Is that you ? ”

[@FluorescentGrief-]
            
                 Kael stood in silence , brows drawn together as uncertainty settled heavily in his mind.  He couldn’t decide whether her fearlessness made her trustworthy or dangerous.  Pulling the trigger and ending the conversation would’ve been easy — far too easy.  That was the kind of man he’d become over the last six months after going rogue.  But something about her held his attention.  The secrets she carried.  The strange attachment she seemed to have to this place.  It felt too specific , too deliberate to ignore.  His gaze never left hers as the barrel of the gun slowly lowered toward the ground , though his grip remained firm around the weapon.  He wasn’t foolish enough to leave himself defenseless.  Lately , paranoia had rooted itself deep inside him , making it impossible to tell whether kindness was genuine or just another disguise for violence.
            
                 None of what she was saying made sense to him.  The static.  Lyra.  Every passing second only made the situation feel more unusual.  “ The last thing I remember is sitting inside my mech’s cockpit , ”  he explained quietly , tilting his head slightly as he watched her.  His voice stayed low , but clear enough to carry through the silence between them.  “ Someone told me to patrol the dead city . . .  if you can even call it a city anymore. ”  He paused briefly , irritation creeping into his tone.  “ Then I started hearing those noises and stopped moving. ”  His grip tightened faintly around the pistol.  “ My machine kept whispering at me to follow the static I’d been hearing since I entered the city limits . . .  and that’s what led me here. ”  The explanation left his mouth reluctantly , as though he hated every second of having to justify himself , but he did it anyway — if only to satisfy her curiosity.

✧【 @hivemindd 】✧
            
            Lyra tilted her head slightly at that—like the words had brushed against something inside her she couldn’t quite name. The arcade lights flickered again, slower this time. Almost… listening. For a moment, the only sound was the broken rhythm game still looping its distorted melody like it hadn’t noticed the world had ended around it. Then Lyra exhaled.
            
            “Static,” she repeated softly. She stepped closer—unhurried, unthreatened—boots crunching over scattered glass and old coin tokens. The gun stayed trained on her the entire time. She didn’t look at it once. That, more than anything, said she was either fearless… or used to it.
            
            “Yeah,” she said finally, stopping just inside the spill of flickering neon. “That sounds about right” a pause. Her eyes shifted—not to him, but slightly past him, like she was listening to something threaded through the air behind his thoughts.
            
            “You’re not hearing noise,” she added gently. “You’re hearing residue” the lights overhead stuttered again. One of the machines behind her powered on by itself, screen blooming with soft blue interference patterns that pulsed in time with her voice. Lyra glanced at it briefly, almost annoyed.
            
            “Stop that,” she muttered under her breath. It immediately shut off. She looked back at him.
            
            “You walked into a dead zone,” she continued. “Places like this don’t stay empty. They just… forget how to speak properly” her gaze finally flicked to the gun—calm, measuring, not afraid.
            
            “If you’re following the static,” she said, slower now, “then it’s already been following you longer” a beat. Then, quieter:
            
            “Tell me—what’s the last thing you remember before it started?”

[@FluorescentGrief-]
            
                 Kael had left his mech a short distance away , drawn deeper into the area by the static clawing at the back of his mind.  The voices tied to his machine urged him forward without explanation , feeding him only fractured noise and the overwhelming need to investigate.  It was reckless , and he knew it , but he obeyed anyway — bringing his firearm along in case whatever waited inside proved hostile.
            
                 The building was empty.  Silent.  Every footstep echoed through the abandoned structure while the static hissed louder in his head , sharp enough to spark a growing headache behind his eyes.  Still , he refused to turn back.  As he moved through the darkened arcade , it became obvious the place had long been deserted — until a flicker of blue light cut through the shadows.  Instantly , Kael turned , drawing his pistol from its holster in one smooth motion and aiming directly at the figure watching him.  The silhouette barely moved , but his eyes narrowed all the same , jaw tightening as tension coiled through him.  He stayed silent until she finally spoke.
            
                 “ I wouldn’t call myself lost , ”  he replied flatly , never lowering the weapon.  His finger rested against the trigger , unwavering.  Trust had become foreign to him.  “ There’s a noise in my head.  Static.  Something familiar. ”  His expression hardened slightly.  “ I can’t explain it . . .  but I’m following it. ”

*
            
                  THE  SYSTEM  HAS  FAILED  ME.
                            ( BLACK SIGNAL ARC )

*
            
                  He has gone rogue , severing all ties with the ESA and erasing himself from the Aegis network.  No one can reach him through his smartwatch , leaving his former allies anxious and uncertain of his fate.  He has claimed an abandoned hangar as his refuge , transforming it into a sanctuary far from the world he once protected.  There , he spends his days alone , attuned to the whispers of the aliens he was meant to destroy , letting their voices guide him — or haunt him — through his isolation.

*
            
                                          POST-HUMAN
            
                  Kael is no longer a man — he is a conduit , a vessel for the Vod’s insidious influence.  His mind is shattered , irreparably flooded with the voices of every machine he controls , layered over by the whispers of the star-born , a constant static that drowns his own thoughts.  Paranoia claws at him relentlessly;  every movement , every signal , every silence feels like a trap , and the very concept of trust has long since decayed into suspicion and fear.  His mech , SIREN-13x , is no longer a tool — it is an extension of himself , a being he is fused with in obsession and need.  Her hum is a heartbeat he can rely on;  her jealousy dictates his every reaction.  Anyone who draws her ire draws his.  Calm , deliberate , unnervingly precise , Kael stalks the battlefield with a predator’s grace , yet beneath the composure lies a mind unhinged , tethered to steel and circuitry rather than flesh.  The line between him and SIREN-13x has blurred;  he hears what she feels , envies what she envies , hates what she hates.  Humanity is gone.  Morality is gone.  Only the conduit remains — a predator born of fracture , whispering with the voices of a thousand machines , hunting for whatever it is he — or they — desire next.

[@-sparrowcall] /    *mwah*